


Those Drawn Together

by tenrousei_kuroi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Violence, Brother/Brother Incest, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex, creature violence, genre hybrid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenrousei_kuroi/pseuds/tenrousei_kuroi
Summary: The Lords Black stand at the vanguard of the magical resistance, with their only son, Sirius, who is proving to be a troublesome heir. And then there's the matter of his bodyguard, a boy who bears him a striking resemblance. When Sirius gives his family the slip on a cold Christmas Eve, he gets more than he'd ever imagined in the form of an information-soaked dagger. SB/RB Sci-Fi





	1. Prologue: The Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Full Title Quote: “Those drawn together by destiny and their cursed blood raise the curtain once again on madness, love, and hate.” –Kaori Yuki, Godchild. 
> 
> Full Summary: The Dark Lord missed his chance, and a different war has enveloped the wizard world. Legions of cosmic monstrosities from an unknown—and decidedly non-magical—source are wreaking havoc. The Lords Black stand at the vanguard of the magical resistance, with their only son, Sirius, who is proving to be a troublesome heir. He runs rampant with his teenage friends and shows little interest in fighting to regain a status quo he has never known. And then there’s the matter of his bodyguard, a boy who bears him a striking resemblance and, despite his secluded upbringing, boasts an impressive knowledge of the enemy’s alien weaponry. When Sirius gives his family the slip on a cold Christmas Eve, he gets more than he’d ever imagined in the form of an information-soaked dagger.

Sirius Black was perched—rather precariously, if he did so admit—on the edge of the topmost windowsill on the back side of his parents’ grand manor. The air was bitingly cold; the thick fog that had until recently only intermittently shrouded the cityscape had not lifted for nearly a week, and so in that week the sun had not been able to warm the earth. As such he also could not see the stars, which was a shame as his namesake, the Dog Star,  _Sirius_ , was supposed to be painfully bright this time of the year, or so the books in Mother and Father’s study had told him.

Sirius scoffed and swept his sleek, black hair away from his face, although it proceeded to fall back immediately. What would his parents think if they knew he was not only disobeying their will tonight, but had been doing so at least twice a week for the last eight years? They’d have his beautiful head, for sure.

In truth, Sirius was waiting for a signal. Any minute now, his best friend and cohort, James Potter, would whistle up at him from the street, eliciting him to jump down to the damp lawn below and join him. Sirius wasn’t about to go sailing out his window without Potter’s signal, though; sneaking back _into_ his home was a lot harder than sneaking out, and if he was going to be stood up, he’d rather not risk getting caught by any of his parent’s servants.

The manor, often called  _Grimmauld Place_ (a shortened version of the full address), was packed nearly wall-to-wall with servants, too, or so it always seemed to Sirius. Some of them were of higher status than others, perhaps bodyguards or contract assassins would be a better term for the fancier ones. Although there were still plenty to wash dishes and reshelve library books. Most ancient wizarding families had a house elf or two to do their bidding, but Sirius’s parents were not only traditionalists, but the top of the magic totem pole, and so while there were a few of the unsightly little bastards running around the dark hallways, Grimmauld Place was well staffed with human slaves as well. Sirius didn’t know of any other family with the status to get away with it. James had told him stories about an older woman his family used to own, but insisted they had set her free when he was very small out of basic humanity. 

Sirius scoffed to himself. If there was one thing his entire family lacked (maybe including himself) it was humanity. 

“Hurry up, Prongs,” Sirius muttered in agitation. He thumped his head back against the windowframe a couple times, groaning. It was cold as hell out and he wanted to get going. He couldn’t close the window because he’d be unable to hear James’s signal if he did so. 

Sirius was especially excited for tonight’s escapade. James had sneaked him word that their mutual friend, Remus Lupin, had spotted a crash point of some kind not too far out of Surrey. Sirius’s fingers curled spastically around the handle of his magic wand; he was eager to get out and stretch his legs. If Remus was correct, and Remus usually was, then there would definitely be a ship out there. If they were extremely lucky, one or two of its original pilots might even be left behind. 

One of Sirius’s prized talents was his proficiency at eavesdropping, and it was by these means he had done his research. According to the information he could piece together from various conversations overheard between his parents, Ministry Officials, Death Eaters, and random informants, the horde of monsters currently besieging the entire continent (and spreading farther by the year) were controlled on a very basic, almost instinctual level from a higher up source. A source of greater intelligence, most likely, for the slavering creatures that came crawling out from the oceans and volcanoes were bestial in nature, and incapable of sentient thought or reasoning. 

_Aliens,_ Sirius had heard the term thrown around a lot lately, although he much preferred  _cosmic monstrosities._ He wasn’t even sure they had come from space; perhaps they were from a different dimension entirely! They had never been sighted, only their flying vessels had. They were compact things, hardly larger than Sirius’s bedroom, give or take the fireplace, and tended to be cloaked to the point of invisibility. But every once in a blue moon, one of them would crash, or be otherwise abandoned. Usually they were hauled off immediately to the Ministry for cataloguing and research; never once had an occupant been found inside one of the infernal machines. 

Sirius took a deep breath of chilling air. Tonight would be different, he could just feel it! If the ship had truly crashed as Remus insisted, then its dead pilots were bound to be inside, and if they were still alive, then Sirius and James could kill them—get into a real fight! He only hoped nobody else had gotten to the sight first.

From somewhere down the street there came a very guttural growl and Sirius snapped his eyes open wide. 

“James…” he murmured again. 

“James who?” a cold voice sounded from directly behind him.

Sirius was so startled he very nearly fell off his perch. After regaining his balance, he slowly swiveled around and dropped back on to the drawing room floor. 

Standing in the doorway was Regulus, his decoy, and staring into his glinting grey eyes was like standing in front of a mirror. Sirius immediately eased.

He had been expecting a servant, not Regulus. He had panicked in the instant where having one of his parents’ cronies (perhaps the sour-faced old man who always glared at him for wearing his shoes indoors, or the frighteningly-tall young woman who lurked in the wine cellar, cataloguing spirits) had been a real possibility. Any one of them would have had him beaten and escorted back to bed, and then informed his parents in the morning. 

However this was only Regulus. Simply Regulus who could no sooner beat Sirius than fly to Venus. For one thing, despite his uncanny resemblance to the Black family heir, he was significantly smaller. Sirius had almost a head on him height-wise (Oh how hilarious were the high, high boots Regulus had to wear when he was in disguise as Sirius!) And for another thing, Regulus had always been easily cowed by Sirius, and the older boy could walk all over him. 

“James Potter,” Sirius replied unashamedly. He approached Regulus with confidence. “He and I are going out tonight.”

Regulus’s posture slackened. “Sirius...” he pleaded. “Please, no…it’s  _dangerous_ out there, especially at night!”

“When have I ever not been fine?” Sirius asked, adopting his cockiest voice, the one he knew Regulus hated. 

“You’ll be torn apart by those monsters, Master,” insisted Regulus, and he dared to take a step towards Sirius, looking up into his eyes fiercely. “They get bolder at night. And besides…James _Potter?”_

“He’s my best mate,” Sirius explained. 

“I know that,” Regulus hissed. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not doing something dangerous. Tell me you’re not going to get torn up.”

“So what if I do?” Sirius laughed and grabbed Regulus by his shoulders and then spun him around. He leaned close to whisper in his ear, “A few scratches never hurt _me_!”

“Well they’ll hurt me,” Regulus whispered. He shrank down and tried to wriggle out of Sirius’s grasp. “I’m your body double, sir, it’s my job to make sure you’re never in danger. If you come down to breakfast tomorrow with a huge slash across your face that can’t be magically healed, then your father will hold me down and slice me up, too, so I match. You _know_ that.”

“Yeah,” Sirius shrugged and finally let the squirming boy out of his grasp. “Speaking of which, what are you doing this high up? You’re not usually allowed out of your room downstairs. What if somebody sees you?” he added and a strict and condescending voice while he shook his head lightly and put on a façade of disappointment. Truthfully he didn’t much care if Regulus was spotted or not. He was certain some of the servants knew of him already, and if he was outed it really wasn’t any skin off Sirius’s back. His parents were just over-reacting. He’d never found himself in any _real_ danger before, and had been convinced for years that Regulus was unnecessary.

“That’s because whenever there’s a serious threat, _I’m_ the one that gets to go in your stead, Master,” Regulus hissed. Sirius blinked, not realizing he’d been saying some of his thoughts out lout again. “Trust me, I come home bloody and battered on a regular basis, you could at least have some gratitude and not go gallivanting off into the night to get yourself eaten by demons!”

Sirius yawned. “Yes, yes, whatever. Go back to your room, Reggie,” he insisted. His head cocked to the side as he heard James’s three note whistle drift in from the open window. “That’s my cue, gotta’ run. See ya’,” and he sent Regulus on his way with a strong push and a slap to his rear end. 

Regulus yelped indignantly, but Sirius had gone sailing out the window by the time he’d turned back around.

Sirius hit the ground hard and rolled. It never seemed to matter how used to this he was, something always creaked when he got up. This time it was his shoulder. “Ouch,” he complained, stretching and flexing his arm. “We need to think about installing a trampoline somewhere down here.”

“Or perhaps you should focus your efforts on de-warding a window a little closer to the ground, idiot,” James Potter came striding up to him from the back alley he’d been lurking in. 

Sirius sent him a lopsided grin. His friend was covered in brush and looking a little disheveled. 

“What happened to you?” Sirius laughed as James pulled a small stick out of his collar.

“They set after me on my way here, three of them!” he insisted. “Normally they don’t come this close to the heart of the city!”

“It’s the night, man, they get braver when it’s dark,” Sirius quoted Regulus’s words from earlier. He pulled a leaf out of James’s hair. 

“I had to change to slip them,” James told him. 

“Shit!” Sirius was taken aback. James was an unregistered animagus, as was Sirius for that matter, but a large, black dog was a significantly less suspicious sight than a three-pronged, wild deer. “Did anybody see you?” 

“Just a couple of seriously angry cheetahs,” James laughed. He and Sirius had taken it upon themselves to categorize the different flavors of slavering monsters that had presented themselves in the city. What James had dubbed the _cheetahs_ were the most common, and they resembled tall hyenas with elongated faces and dusky cheetah print hides.

James was still obviously flustered from being chased. He ran his hand nervously through his hair. 

“Well…let’s get going, okay? I ditched them a few blocks back…”

“Come on then. Let’s get the street and get out of here.”

“Okay.”

Sirius led James back around his house. They broke out of the alley and tumbled into the front street. The world was a little more well lit here, with flickering orange lights casting a disturbing glow over the frosted streets. Sirius looked up and down the road. There was no one out and about; most of the muggles had been wiped out by the onslaught of monsters and the few who remained had either been taken in by a generous wizarding family (don’t look at  _Sirius’s_ family) or were in hiding elsewhere, and there were few wizards who lacked the sense to stay indoors at night, when the monsters were most vicious. 

Sirius and James were not new to this, though; they knew what they were doing. The buses still ran. Sirius flung out his wand arm. He felt a little chill go down his spine while they waited for the usual  _bang!_ ...he could almost feel all the enemy eyes on him. 

“Remus wouldn’t come with,” James explained needlessly. 

“He won’t even meet us there?” Sirius demanded. At that moment, one of the transport buses arrived with a clatter and a gust of wind sent his and James’s robes billowing. Sirius spat hair out of his face.

“No, he’s convinced it’s too close to the full moon.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. The full moon was weeks away; their friend was being a coward again. 

“Such a ponce,” Sirius muttered. He spun around and clambered onto the bus, James following him closely while fishing around in his pocket for some change. The two of them settled at the back of the bus and waited. Sirius fiddled around with the destination panel on the back of the seat in front of him, selecting where they wanted the driver to take them. 

The bus was moderately crowded with late night commuters, most of whom probably worked for the ministry. That was the only profession (legal profession, at least) that Sirius could think of which would require its employees to be out so late; it was nearly one in the morning. 

James was standing above Sirius, hanging on to the rail and lounging over him. “Excited?” he asked. 

“You know it,” Sirius muttered as he finished selecting the proper coordinates and the little _accepted_ light was blinking green. “We haven’t found anything worthwhile in months.”

“My parents’d have a fit if they ever caught me,” James said conversationally.

“And mine would be pleased?” Sirius laughed. “They’d have an aneurism if they knew their _precious_ heir was so disobedient.”

“Have they ever caught you?” James asked curiously. Sirius had never mentioned it, but then again, why would he?

“Once or twice, yeah. Not often enough to suspect we do it all the time, though,” Sirius sounded supremely unconcerned with this fact. “Last time they noticed was a few years ago. I was like thirteen. You should have _seen_ my father’s face!”

Sirius’s laugh was short and abrupt, rather like a bark. James rolled his eyes. He had met Sirius’s parents on several occasions, and judging by the harsh decorum of the two Lords Black, he had trouble imagining how Sirius could possibly be so nonchalant about getting on their bad sides. 

Well the answer to that was quite simple, really, although it was impossible for James to divine it from Sirius’s toothy grin: Sirius’s parents rarely punished  _him._ A long time ago they had come to the mistaken conclusion that Sirius cared more deeply for Regulus, although  _why_ he should care for him was a mystery to the oldest Black. When Sirius did wrong, it was Regulus who got smacked, and it wasn’t that Sirius felt  _no_ regret, just that such punishment didn’t in any way  _deter_ him. 

The inside of the bus was cozily warm and both Sirius and James were reluctant to leave it an hour or so later, when the wheels grinded to a halt, the front door creaked open and the driver called, “Oi, you two in the back. This’s your stop! Last one of the night for me…” his voice trailed off into incoherent grumbling. James and Sirius were the last two passengers. As they passed the driver, James flashed him a wide grin and flipped an extra galleon coin into the collection tin. 

“Woah!” Sirius threw his hood up as soon as the wind hit them. The bus disappeared from behind them with a _crack!_ “Bit chilly out, isn’t it?”

“Shit, I hate winter,” James griped in agreement. “Fuckin’ drag to have your snot freeze.”

Sirius couldn’t help but laugh. James would never speak in such a manner within earshot of his parents (or anyone who would potentially  _report_ to his parents) for fear of intense retribution. Sirius never had much of a censor on his own mouth, parents or no parents, and he’d earned Regulus many a slap to the face when he was younger.

They were on the edge of a field. Sirius removed the crumpled piece of paper Remus had sent him from his pocket and double-checked the coordinates. He held out his own wand and whispered conspiratorially to it. It flashed the numbers of their current location. 

“Looks like we’ve still got a couple of miles to go,” Sirius frowned, pointing in the correct direction. “Fucking bus.”

“Well it’s not gonna’ drive through a freaking field,” James argued. He stepped boldly off the road and into the frozen stubble. “Shit, though, it is way cold to be walking.”

“Then let’s not walk,” Sirius suggested with a smile spreading over his chapped lips. James seemed to fill in the spaces between the lines. 

“Race you,” he goaded, before throwing himself groundwards. Before he’d even lost his balance he’d changed and in his place stood a tall, dark deer with impressive antlers and a mysteriously smug face. James didn’t wait for Sirius; he took the headstart he could get.

Sirius wasn’t far behind. He transformed in mid-leap and hit the ground dashing. The frozen stems below him cracked underneath his massive paws as he gained ground on his friend quickly. There was a gentle fog swishing through his fur and his frantic pace kicked snow up into his face, but he never really needed to  _see_ in this form.

It felt good to run. He sprinted until his heart raced and his joints ached. Every muscle felt stretched, pulled, near to snapping but he loved it. He caught James easily, circled around him even, nipped at his heels a few times. When James bounced effortlessly over an old property-line fence, Sirius leaped straight through the middle, sliding his lithe body between the wooden boards and not even breaking stride. 

They charged down a slick hill, now more sliding than running, and finally found their destination. James came to a slippery halt at the edge of a slight cliff, for the hill cut off dramatically. Sirius tumbled right into him, partly from his inertia and partly on purpose, and the two of them tumbled gracelessly into the chasm below. 

They were humans again by the time they’d stopped rolling. It soon became immediately apparent why the ground was so uneven in what was undeniably a crop field: the wreckage of the vessel had created a massive crater, into which they had fallen. 

Sirius threw out a “ _fuuuck…”_ just for good measure as he staggered to his feet, clutching his chest. James righted himself as well. 

“Remus was—…wasn’t kidding,” he gasped. “He really did see the thing come down.”

Sirius nodded, a little surprised himself. It wasn’t that he had expected Remus to be wrong, just maybe mistaken. These fields were all but abandoned in the winters and as such Remus had used them as an impromptu transformation location. Remus was a werewolf, and was normally kept under lock and key during the full moons. Out here, though, when it was the cold months at least, he could be let out to run and howl to his heart’s desire with no consequence. When he’d sent word of what he’d seen, Sirius had been a little skeptical that Remus’s memory might be a bit off—werewolves didn’t really see that well after all, nor were they well known for comprehending what they saw. 

But here it was as plain as if it were day. In the center of the massive hole was a mangled piece of metal resembling a muggle car, only larger, and with strange, twisted propulsion mechanisms instead of wheels, and a complex system of lights instead of windows (which were still blinking, albeit dully as the entire structure was caked with dirt) and absolutely no discernable doors or entrance points. 

“Holy shit,” James gasped. He and Sirius had never even seen a _picture_ of one of these, few people had. A good many wizards had chosen to believe that the ships found and confiscated by the government had been hoaxes or rumors, but if anything removed that doubt from the boys’ heads it was the image they saw before them. 

“This is it, all right,” Sirius breathed. “Remus is gonna’ freak when we show him.”

“We oughta’ just say we never saw it,” James argued. “He’s bound to tell his parents about it if he figures we really found it.”

“Oh, shut up, we’re not doing that,” Sirius shot back half-heartedly, but he was a little uneasy himself. 

James caught his look. “I’d bet money his parents drafted a letter last evening and are gonna’ send it out as soon as it’s light. This place’ll be crawling with ministry workers by six a.m.” 

“Then we’ll just have to make sure _we’re_ long gone by then…and with all the interesting stuff!” Sirius approached the machine cautiously. He had no idea how _technology_ worked. Wasn’t it all electric? Was the metal safe to touch, or was he going to find himself getting radio stations through the fillings in his teeth?

James had thrown caution to the frozen winds and placed both his hands, open-palmed, over one of the large, reddish lights. As his skin disturbed all the dust, a few clean patches appeared between his fingers, and the light shot out of them, bright and intimidating. 

“Wicked,” James murmured. “Come on, let’s find a way inside, then!”

Sirius walked around to the other side, hoping to find a door of some kind. What he found instead was an enormous hole. A long strip had been torn almost completely off the side of the ship, and now dangled, bent at an odd angle. It was enough, though. Without hesitation, Sirius lit his wand  _(“lumos!”)_ and clambered inside. James must have heard his boots clanking down on the metal interior of the ship, because and instant later, he was behind Sirius.

“Bit dark in here,” he complained, adding his own wand to the meager light Sirius had provided. While it was dark outside, the waning moon and snow on the ground had kept visibility high. Inside this structure it had been pitch black until the two boys had lit their wands. 

“Shh…” Sirius inched forward. The interior of the vessel was very bare. There was a single control panel in one side, a sort of mat on the floor (or perhaps ceiling? It was hard to tell which way this this had landed) with many lights and a single, charred button that both Sirius and James were too nervous to touch. On the other side of the small ship was a twisted and wrecked clump of some kind of metal interlaced with scraps of a softer, blue material. 

James approached it. “Was this some kind of chair, do you suppose?”

Sirius shrugged. Some of the panels on the walls were indented more than other, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why. There were a few welded symbols here and there that seemed to serve no purpose at all. Sirius tried his best to memorize them for further study later. 

“This place is pretty empty,” Sirius admitted a while later when he was feeling both relieved and disappointed that they had found no living or dead creatures inside the ship. “Like, _really_ empty.”

Suddenly James aimed his light at the floor. “Maybe empty _now_ ,” he admitted. 

Sirius followed his gaze and noticed what his friend was talking about. There were long scrapes and dents in the floor they stood on, as though multiple, heavy objects had been dragged free of the ship. Following the path back out into the crater, Sirius and James examined the ground more closely. Sure enough, matching drag marks and a few indecipherable indents that  _may_ have been footprints led from the improvised doorway out into the field. Sirius suddenly found himself shaking a little. 

“There was at least one alive,” he whispered. “It made it out of the ship…”

“Old Moody wasn’t crazy after all,” said James in an equally quiet voice. “There really are intelligent creatures siccing all those monsters on us.”

“How far away do you suppose it is?”

“Remus saw this thing crash days ago,” James admitted. “On the full moon, remember?”

“That’s right,” Sirius sighed. “Any survivors are long gone by now.”

“So we’re alone,” James said in a carefully calm voice. From that moment on, the two of them were even more quiet than before, as if out of fear that whatever had crawled from the wreckage might crawl back. 

Sirius was just beginning to think that, beyond the symbols he had seen earlier, there was nothing worth salvaging here and was just starting to consider blasting off a piece of the ship as a souvenir, when he heard James gasp.

“Get over here, Sirius!” he called.

Sirius walked back to the gaping hole and leaned inside, unwilling to go back in. 

James stepped back out of the darkness, and held something out to Sirius. Now under the light of the moon, Sirius could see what it was.

It was some kind of device, with a determined handle and an elongated portion on the top which ended at a slight point. The entire body of it was silver with black edges and it equaled the length of Sirius’s wand, though it was considerably wider. When James handed it to him, Sirius noticed it felt heavy, dense. 

“What _is_ it?” he gasped. 

James shrugged. “There was only one,” he explained. “It was stuck under that pile of junk metal we found in there.”

Sirius nodded, in awe of the device. “Well we’ve found what we’re taking home!” he exclaimed. James nodded enthusiastically. 

“I wonder what it does,” Sirius mused. He gripped the handle firmly and shook the thing a little. Nothing. Flipping it over in his hand, he slid his fingers along the underside, examining the metal for any kind of switch or trigger, like he’d seen in pictures in his books. There weren’t any, but when his fingers brushed up against the corner where the handle met the top of the device, a piece of the seemingly solid structure slid back with great force, tugging two of his finger along with it. There was an intense vibrating sound and a strong jet of something red rocketed from the end of the machine. It narrowly missed James’s head and instead struck the ship behind him, scorching an enormous circle into the grey metal.

“Holy shit!” James cried, darting sideways. Sirius, who had been knocked off his feet from the kickback, only lay on his back in awe, staring up at the starry sky. It was still foggy out here, but considerably less so than in the city, and large patches of the sky had opened up, allowing moonlight to flood in.

“Are you okay?” James was kneeling by him an instant later. “That thing must be some kind of weapon!”

“Yeah or a long range welding tool,” Sirius deadpanned, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m fine, James,” he insisted when James reached out a hand to help steady him. 

“Fuck that was loud,” James hissed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I go deaf on that side!”

Sirius held the weapon out at arm’s length, much more cautious of it now. It was a minute or two before he regained his breath and both he and James were once again feeling excited about their discovery, rather than terrified. 

James shivered a little once they were calmed enough to start noticing the temperature again. 

“Perhaps we should start back,” he offered. 

Sirius agreed. The new workday was creeping up on them; soon it would be light and if their suspicions were true, then they did not want to be here when people started showing up. 

James ran his wand along the ground briefly, covering up their footprints and by extent, the marks left outside by the escaping alien as well. 

“We don’t want them finding out someone was already here,” he explained, although Sirius had long since caught on. “Now transform and I’ll hand you this thing.”

Sirius resumed his dog shape, and carefully took the metal thing in his mouth, wary of it attacking him again. James transformed beside him and they clambered out of the ravine (Sirius having a slightly difficult time of it thanks to his newly added cargo) and set off for the road again at a slower, yet somehow more urgent pace than before.

They hailed the bus a second time and it was a new driver now, one who looks decidedly unhappy at being called to work at this hour. She glared at the two of them until they all but emptied their pockets into her money jar. She also refused to take them back to their houses, stopping a good ten blocks from James’s home and even further from Sirius’s before kicking them out and disappearing into the night.

“Bitch,” James cursed at the empty street where the bus had previously been. 

“Fuck it, we’ll walk,” Sirius conceded. They set off down the sidewalk. Sirius’s body ached from all the exertion of the night and his steps were slow and sluggish. James was not much better. Sirius had their souvenir carefully tucked away in his pocket, and it made him heavily lopsided. 

“I turn here, mate,” James reminded him. 

“Oh, right!” Sirius said. “Listen, we need to get together to do some serious examination of this thing.”

“I know, but I’m gone for a few weeks now…for Christmas,” James whined. “My mother wants to fly over to Spain to see one of her cousins.”

The unspoken  _because we never know how many chances we’ll have to see him_ hung heavy in the air. Sirius nodded and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Hadn’t they all ‘been in mortal danger’ for nearly two decades now? He was certain Ms. Potter’s cousin wasn’t going anywhere.

“All right, shoot me a message when you get back, will you?”

“Of course!” James insisted. “And keep an eye on the papers for me. I want to know if they mention that wreck at all.”

“Probably won’t, the last few were kept secret, remember?” Sirius had only heard what he’d heard of them from (you guessed it) eavesdropping on his parents. 

James nodded. “Get home safe,” he pleaded. 

“I will,” Sirius promised. He would have said _‘and you, too’_ except James’s house was literally a hundred yards away. Sirius saw him walk up the front steps and wave once before disappearing inside. Sirius stared for a second, envious of how easy it was for James to get back into his home. _He_ had to scale the side of building, a risky and decidedly noisy task.

Sirius started off back towards Grimmauld, and he was halfway home before he heard the growling. He froze.

Sirius supposed he’d been lucky, actually. With as bold as the monsters had become in recent years—especially at night—he should by rights have been set upon blocks ago.

The growling was coming from behind him, in front of him, and to his right. With nothing but a solid wall of abandoned buildings on his left, he was effectively surrounded. A chorus of high-pitched yipping began to interlace with the guttural growls as they grew in volume and number. 

“Cheetahs,” Sirius mouthed. He glanced at the abandoned houses, immediately dismissing the idea of venturing inside one. The doors hung loose on their hinges and the windows were all broken in. They’d follow him inside and then he’d be trapped for real. He decided he had a better chance out in the open where he could fight.

Sirius had taken out his share of marauding mutants. His bedroom at Grimmauld was stuffed full of teeth, claws, pelts and some entire skeletons of the smaller ones he’d managed to hunt down. His parents never went in there, so he worried very little about being found out. Only Regulus had ever seen his growing collection, and Sirius didn’t even have to  _tell_ him to keep his mouth shut; Regulus knew to do as Sirius wanted. 

This was a little different, though. Sirius had never taken down a full-sized cheetah, let alone three (and there had to be at  _least_ three, because he was surrounded on three sides. It was difficult to tell with all the echoes down the alleys and off buildings but it sounded like there were even more. Their whining and yowling was making Sirius’s skin crawl; it was the kind of sound a pack of wild animals made when their kill was imminent: an early celebration howl).

Sirius slowly withdrew his wand and turned his back to the houses. For a brief moment, he contemplated shouting for assistance, but who in this neighborhood would hear or help him? And he wasn’t so desperate yet that he wanted to call attention to himself; his parents would throw a fit and he’d probably find himself locked in his room if they thought he was putting himself in this kind of danger. Besides, shouting would only bring the monsters on him faster.

The creatures quieted and the barks became intermittent. Sirius snapped his head back and forth, following the sparse noises as they circled around him in the dusky street. He could see very little in this area as it was covered in a thick fog and the dull street lights only reflected off the low-hanging clouds. Sirius found he almost had to squint. 

All was still for a minute, and Sirius knew what was coming next. One by one, the hideous, speckled creatures galloped out of the fog and came towards him on all sides.

“Protego!” Sirius shouted, throwing up a shield in front of him. The first two cheetahs bounced off of it, howling in pain, and the two that followed behind skidded to a halt just in time and waited for Sirius’s protection to retract.

Before Sirius could recast his shield, one of the injured ones was up and charging forward again, as were the two who hadn’t fallen.

“Sectumsempra!” Sirius sliced the nearest cheetah open. It gave a sickening cry when the front of its chest slit open. A purplish blood-like fluid oozed out onto the snowy pavement and the creature hit the ground squirming. It was far from dead.

The others leapt over their fallen comrade and surged up to Sirius. Sirius backed up, sliding a little on the slick ground, to give himself some more room before casting again. He managed to blast the creatures back into a heap next to the injured one. They twitched and growled, saliva flooding from their jaws, but they didn’t get back up again. One of them managed to swivel onto its stomach and lay there like a dog, panting. 

Sirius’s legs were shaking. He could hardly stand himself upright. He took in the four cheetahs in front of him, panting almost as much as they were. Slowly he made his way forward. If he could just inch to the side of them, then he could dash off down the street and hopefully get home before they regained their breath. 

Something was wrong, though. The cheetahs were hardly mortally wounded. One was bleeding, but the others had barely been scratched. Sirius had run into the ugly beasts multiple times, and they never tired this quickly. 

Wary, Sirius took a shaky step forward when it happened. A cheetah he hadn’t seen or heard, leaped out from inside the building behind him. It sailed straight out the busted window and collided with Sirius’s shoulders. The two went sprawling to the ground, and the cheetah tumbled off of him, but got up immediately, followed by all the ones on the ground that had been playing possum. 

Sirius coughed, and felt some blood leak out from between his lips. With blurred vision he looked up at the fast-advancing cheetahs. Numbly he made to raise his wand, only to realize it had been knocked far from his grasp. Horrified, he spotted it near a snow-clogged storm drain. 

He had seconds before teeth would be digging into every inch of his body. Panicking, Sirius rolled over, only to feel a sharp jab of pain in his side. He had rolled onto the weapon from the ship. Desperate, he yanked the thing from his pocket got up onto his knees. He pointed it directly at the approaching pack, and hoping against hope that he was pointing it forward and not backwards at his own face, he began to frantically shake it, jerk it, and mash his fingers all up and down the handle. 

“Please!” Sirius gasped. The lead cheetah was fewer than five feet from him.

The device began to shake. It was different than the last time. This time there was a god-awful cracking sound and three sequential flashes of bright red jettisoned out of the tip. They struck the oncoming cheetah with deadly precision, singing a hole almost right through its neck. The stench of burned flesh and fur was immediate and strong. The cheetah was blasted backwards into the road where it lay, smoking lightly.

It was like magic. The remaining three stopped in their tracks, intensely wary of Sirius’s new weapon. He staggered to his feet, joints cracking and palms sweating. The cheetahs began to bark and cry, suddenly terrified of Sirius. They turned tail and fled, a sluggish trail of purplish fluid leaking to the ground from the one that had been hit by Sirius’s curse. 

Sirius clutched at his heart. He was amazed. The creatures knew this weapon and they were scared of it. James had been right. This was all the proof needed to link the mysterious aliens from the sky to the waves of slavering minions down below on the earth. Sirius ran to the edge of the sidewalk and threw himself down, searching for his fallen wand, but it was no use. In the scuffle, his wand had been knocked down the storm drain. Could he maybe borrow a different wand (read: could he steal Regulus’s) and  _accio_ his own back? Sirius shoved a rock down the drain and heard it strike running water. His wand had surely been swept away. 

“Shit,” he groaned, clunking his forehead into the slushy snow. This was going to be difficult to explain.

A sick crunching sound startled him back upright. He turned around and the sight was appalling. Several of the cheetahs had returned and were now crunching down on their dead brother. 

Sirius’s handsome face twisted in disgust. He brushed as much dirt and grime as he could off his robes and then set off for home, walking unnaturally fast for fear of being besieged again.

Sirius’s near death experience with the cheetahs had not deterred him from his nighttime activities. By the time he was clambering back up the walls of his ancestral home (grimacing every time he slipped and accidentally kicked a window or storm drain) he was already planning his next escapade. James would be gone for a while, but that was no reason to halt Sirius’s fun. He had other friends. 

The mystery of the ship and the gun was intriguing, fascinating even, but it was not all consuming for Sirius. He had no desire to go back to that wreckage, nor was he of the mindset that the knowledge he had gained was anything that needed to be immediately shared. As he clambered in through the window, his mind was snugly occupied with thoughts of the dance club he and James had dragged Remus to month before last, and the pretty people they’d met there. Perhaps Remus needed dragging again; it would be good for him…

The upstairs drawing room was frighteningly quiet and still. Sirius had half expected Regulus to be there waiting for him, which was an odd thing to expect because Regulus was so rarely free to roam the house. 

Sirius crept back into his bedroom. He had to strike a match to light the lamps in the chandelier since he didn’t have his wand anymore. He burned his hand doing it. 

Sirius quickly shucked his wrecked clothing and slipped on something comfortable for sleeping. His bedroom was claustrophobic despite its size, and dark despite the chandelier. From each corner of the ceiling, drying plants hung, waiting to be used in a potion. The skins of lesser monsters he and James had managed to take down were hung across his desk, the back of his chair, and the bars in his closet. A set of Cheetah teeth dangled from the ceiling. His walls were papered with tacked up drawings, pictures and notes, most of them pertaining to the monsters, or the rare bits of  _technology_ that Sirius had come across. From the heap of dirty clothes on the floor, Sirius withdrew carefully his new gun, and set it softly on his nightstand next to several bizarre looking knives and a package of very tiny arrows. 

It certainly was a find, this weapon, if only he had someone to teach him how exactly it worked. 

Sirius was careful to point it away from his bed, and then he went to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

He awoke the next morning to the sound of the breakfast bell, and groaned before rolling over. His head was pounding as a reminder of his adventure last night and for a moment he seriously considered demanding his breakfast be brought to him in bed. He thought better of it though. He was going to have to ask his parents for a new wand today, and come up with a believable excuse for why he lost his original one. He needed them in a good mood for that and being a brat this early in the morning was certainly not a good way to accomplish that. Besides, he had a violin lesson later this morning, if he wasn’t mistaken. 

He opened his eyes and blinked the sleep from them. 

“Oh, _shit!_ ” he yelped, jumping up and scampering to the foot of the bed. The gun on his nightstand was pointing directly at his face, and was considerably closer than it had been the night before. 

Somebody had moved it. 


	2. Narcissa Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one: Narcissa Black

Sirius hid the gun in the box springs beneath his mattress. He was certain that whichever servant had seen it had definitely told his parents, and with it hidden away safely, perhaps he could deny having it. 

Sirius trekked down to the gloomy basement kitchen for breakfast dressed in his cleanest robes with his hair tamed and his face washed. He was surprised to see no one in the room.

“Hey, Sirius,” came a voice from under the table. The kitchen wasn’t empty after all. Sirius turned to see his cousin, Narcissa Black, clamber back into her chair with her fork in hand. “Dropped it,” she explained, tossing the utensil all the way into the sink, an impressive shot from where she sat. Sirius gave her a new one from the cutlery drawer. 

“Thanks,” said Narcissa, digging into her scrambled eggs. “You’re parents are both at the Ministry, by the way,” she said through a full mouth. “They said there was something going on and they’re calling everyone important in to a meeting. My parents dropped me off here and took Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga with them.”

“What’s happened? Where’re Bellatrix and Andromdeda?” asked Sirius, sitting down across from his cousin and helping himself to some of her breakfast. 

“No idea,” she shrugged. “Someone important’s probably been offed by a pack of monsters or something. I don’t read the papers. And both of them’re at Rodolphus Lestrange’s; they spent the _night._ ”

Sirius nodded. “Did my parents seem angry about anything?” he asked carefully. 

“No,” she said. “Why?”

“Nothing, they’ve just…been in a really bad mood lately.”

“Well they seemed fine,” Narcissa said. She gave Sirius a confused look. “Why are you asking me that? They were perfectly pleasant to you when they told you to go back to sleep like an hour ago, don’t you remember? Don’t tell me you slept so soundly that you forgot you spoke with them.”

Sirius blinked. What was… _Regulus!_ Narcissa must have seen Regulus talking to his parents! But Regulus’s room was down a flight of stairs from the basement and Sirius’s was up on the third floor, had Narcissa not noticed that Sirius had appeared to go to bed downstairs and awake upstairs? Sirius was saved from having to talk further by the arrival of his violin instructor, Grus. 

Grus was a tall and stately man who bore a slight resemblance to the oldest of the Lestrange sons (Sirius had always supposed they were distantly related). He wore intimidating glasses that flashed menacingly whenever he tossed his head and his dark, auburn hair was almost always tied back. He was of near perfect pureblood stature, as identified by the pin on his collar, and his face was permanently affixed with a distasteful look that read as though Grus considered helping Sirius rosin his violin strings to be a task completely beneath him. 

Grus noticed Sirius had no plate or silverware of his own. “Good to see you are done eating, Mister Sirius,” he said curtly. “Come with me; we may as well get off to an early start.”

“Start for what?” asked Narcissa, putting down her fork. Sirius gave a half smile because there were few things that interested Narcissa more than food. 

“Your young cousin has a two hour lesson with me this morning, though I do not doubt it will take twice that long,” he eyed Sirius with distaste. “It would not surprise me if he has not touched his violin all week.”

Sirius groaned, but Narcissa perked up considerably. “Can I join you?” she asked.

“Of course not,” came the immediate response from Grus. 

“But I want to!” Narcissa demanded. “I’ll bet I can play better than Sirius!”

“And how old are you?” asked Grus.

“Twelve,” Narcissa responded proudly. 

“Exactly, you’re much too small to use Sirius’s violin; it’s a full 4/4, and we have no others in the house.”

Narcissa slouched down into her chair and scowled. Sirius knew why Grus was being so obstinate. Regulus took his lessons at the same time as Sirius, and Narcissa was not to know the other young man existed. Grus himself had been sworn to secrecy with an Unbreakable Vow performed at the request of Sirius’s father, who was adamant that Regulus match Sirius perfectly, right down to his mediocre violin skills. 

Before they left, Grus growled at Narcissa one last time. “And lower your collar, Miss Narcissa; it’s covering your Mark.”

Narcissa’s eyes flashed, but she seemed reluctant to get herself into any more trouble with this man who so often talked to her parents. With a barely contained attitude, she yanked down the right half of her shirt collar, revealing a tiny green snake that had been tattooed on the side of her neck. It was a symbol intended to immediately identify anyone who was of pure blood, and therefore also of the highest stature. Unlike the pins and bracelets given out to the halfbloods and mudbloods, the Mark could not be easily faked. “Why bother?” Narcissa rolled her eyes. “There’s like, no one else left anyway.”

Sirius’s violin had definitely seen better days. It was dented and scuffed from him hastily throwing it into its case and it had dulled from a lack of polishing. Regulus’s, by contrast, stood proudly next to it, still in mint condition. 

“Get started,” Grus instructed, pointing to Sirius’s sheet music which was already perched on a sleek black stand beneath the window of the music room. “I want you done with your warm up by the time I get him in here.” He left hastily to go and collect Regulus. 

Sirius picked up his instrument. Grus had gotten it ready for him. Well, as ready as the bedraggled thing could ever truly be. He had tuned it to the best of his ability, the strings were new (Sirius had snapped two of them during his last lesson) and they produced a somewhat pleasant, if slightly strained sound when Sirius grazed his bow along them. 

Still of the mindset that he needed his parents to be in a good mood when he told them of his lost wand, Sirius actually played through his warm up several times. He smiled pleasantly when he heard Grus’s footsteps outside the door; he could picture the man’s shocked face. 

“Hello,” Sirius said as he turned around to face Grus, who was leading Regulus harshly by the arm.

Regulus inclined his head in a little bow, but his eyes were cold. 

Regulus seemed to have a natural affinity for the violin. Sirius could see the anguish in his wrists as he strained to make his music sound as average as Sirius’s. It probably pained him greatly not to be able to play unless Sirius was. 

“Sirius,” Grus said as he cut the older Black off midway through his recital piece. “That sounds horrific.”

“It’s not me!” Sirius insisted, dropping the instrument to his side. “It’s this beaten up old thing,” he whacked the side of the violin with his bow. “It’s gonna’ sound terrible no matter who plays it!”

“I know,” Grus nodded. “Regulus,” he said sharply. “Switch your violin with Sirius’s.”

Regulus’s eyes widened. “W-what?” he stuttered. “You mean…like, for today?”

“No, for good,” Grus responded from his seat in the corner of the room where he sat, critiquing the two boys. “You can have yours back when Sirius’s parents get him a new one.”

Regulus paled. He turned, horrified, to Sirius. “But Master,” he begged. “Sirius will trash it, just look at the one he’s got now!”

“I said give it to him, Regulus. Now, or your masters will hear of this.”

Regulus’s hands shook as he handed his prized, blue violin over to Sirius with a look on his face as though he were carefully setting it into a wood chipper. Sirius dropped his own instrument to the ground where it landed with a crunch on the carpet. He held Regulus’s violin out in front of him briefly. In the reflection shining off the oiled wood, he could see Regulus’s face; he seemed to be near tears over the situation. 

“Now, Sirius,” continued Grus. “Start from the coda.”

Regulus could only watch in horror. Sirius was sure he was furiously tallying in his head all the misdeeds Sirius was already committing against his precious violin. He was probably holding it too tightly, scratching at the strings  _too hard._

Sirius had to admit Regulus’s violin was nice. He seemed to be playing better than he ever had before. The notes flew from his hands and he didn’t have to look to see that Grus was impressed. When he finished his song with a flourish, he knew he had done well enough to deserve an early reprieve, and so tossed Regulus’s (now  _his_ ) violin into its case at his feet. Regulus blanched.

“Wonderful, Sirius,” said Grus. “Nearly perfect, you’ve never done so well! I think we might just leave it at that today. That is, after Regulus has finished his recitation.”

Sirius saw Regulus hunkered over in his chair. “I don’t wish to play this thing,” he said. Sirius’s old violin hung limp in his hands. “I don’t think I could stand the screeches it produces.”

Grus and Regulus argued back and forth for a few minutes while Sirius watched the clock, wondering idly when his parents would return. The sooner one or the other of them came home, the sooner he could ask for a new wand, and thus the sooner he could recommence his experiments. He had some more potion ingredients to whip up, and there was still the matter of that gun; he wanted to do a little tampering with it, maybe take it apart.

Regulus was usually more submissive than this, but the matter of his violin seemed to have finally gotten a serious reaction out of him. He railed at Grus with a fierceness Sirius had rarely seen before. It was not until Grus, fed up with Regulus’s disobedience, took ahold of him by the hair. Immediately Regulus seemed to recognize his mistake and tried desperately to backtrack.

“Wait—wait—wait!” he cried, but it was too late. 

Faces were off limits to Grus and the others under the Black’s command because the marks were too easily spotted. Instead Grus opted to beat Regulus around his chest and stomach for thirty agonizing seconds. Sirius even grimaced a little at the crunching sound of thin frame crunching beneath the man’s fist; Regulus’s eyes watered from the grip on his hair. 

When Grus released him, Regulus took several deep breaths to collect himself and then obediently brought Sirius’s mutilated violin to his chin. There was a definite hitch to his breathing and a slouch in his posture that suggested he was going to be hurting for a while. Although his eyes were subserviently downcast, there was a harsh glare to them. Sirius got the uncomfortable feeling it was directed more at him than their instructor. 

Regulus choked through the piece, even he couldn’t salvage Sirius’s destroyed instrument. He was thoroughly reprimanded for his poor performance and rapped one last time across the hands with a baton for good measure. 

“Sirius,” Grus commanded in a much gentler voice than he had used on Regulus. “Please be sure there are no servants or…twelve year old girls in the hallway.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Why bother?” he asked. “Most of the servants know about Regulus anyway! For fuck’s sake, he’s lived here his whole life. He’s been seen plenty of times.”

“Be that as it may, so long as he is not seen _with_ you, we may still deny that he wasn’t simply _you_ slouching over. Now, check for me so that I may escort Mr. Regulus to his room for the remainder of the day.”

Sirius felt a slight pang at Grus’s words. It must be truly miserable to live as Regulus does, locked away until he was needed. Completely without affection or companionship…little more than a tool…Sirius gave Regulus a rare, pitying look. 

Regulus only glared and brushes past him harshly. Sirius stumbled a little. Regulus seemed to have developed an attitude overnight. It was rare for him to be this surly. Grus led him off and Sirius watched them go. After Grus left through a back door, Sirius made his way back to the kitchen where he rejoined his cousin. 

“What are you doing, Niccy?” he asked, noticing her flat on her stomach on the floor with an arm stretched under the kitchen dresser. 

Narcissa shot up at the sound of his voice. 

“N—nothing,” she immediately stuttered, getting shakily to her feet. “I, well…okay, I might have dropped my wand and it rolled under there,” she jerked her eyes in the direction of the dresser. 

“Ah, I see,” said Sirius. “And what were you casting in my kitchen to begin with?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” said Narcissa again. “I swear! Sirius…can you accio it out from under there for me?”

“Love to, little cousin, but I’ve lost my wand as well,” Sirius admitted. He approached the dresser and put a hand on either side of it. “But I can pull this out for you so you can grab it.”

“All right,” Narcissa agreed. “Boy are your parents going to be pissed when they hear you’ve lost your wand! Didn’t Auntie Walburga order it specially from somewhere in Russia?” Narcissa scampered over to the wall and watched the floor closely as it Sirius moved the dresser inch by inch, rattling the cutlery and plates seated inside it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll need to butter them up a bit before I say anything.” 

Sirius wished Narcissa had not reminded him of how expensive and cumbersome it had been to get his original wand. International shopping was nearly impossible with the current state of things. A lot of the monsters like to chomp down on owls and as such sending mail long distances was insanely risky. His parents were not going to be happy at all…

“When you talk to them, you should get them to let me stay here for a while,” said Narcissa while she grabbed hold of the dresser as well to help Sirius move it over a bump in the floor. 

“And why would I do that?” Sirius huffed. Narcissa fell to her knees and started reaching around under the dresser again, feeling for her lost wand. 

“Because I don’t like it at my house anymore. My parents keep asking that Malfoy heir over. He’s there like every day! And I _don’t_ like the way he stares at me.”

Sirius snorted. “Well looks like they’re thinking about marrying you off already.”

“I’m way too young!” Narcissa cried. She didn’t seem too surprised by Sirius’s revelation. She must have already arrived at that conclusion herself. Hearing it voiced by another person however, was enough to make her just a little shy of enraged. Her voice wavered and had gotten considerably louder.

“To marry, maybe. But you’re not too young to start planning. I’m sorry your parents chose _Lucius_ of all people, though. He’s got to have ten years on you age-wise. _And_ he’s a douche. Do you suppose they picked him because you two have matching hair?”

Narcissa kicked the dresser, rattling it and sending Sirius careening backwards a little. He managed to regain his balance, but was now in a rather precarious position with the dresser bearing down on him. It’s forks and knives were dangling awkwardly in his face. 

“Most likely they picked him because it was either that or a Lestrange brother, and I think both of them are marrying my sisters. Figures that _they’d_ get the lookers,” she scoffed. “I won’t go through with it, though! And they can’t make me. I’ll run away before they betroth me to that creepy jerk. That’s why I need you to get your parents to let me stay here for a while, so I can lie low and gather my wits and some supplies…then I’m high-tailing it out of here!”

“To go…shit,” Sirius tried to rearrange himself into a better position without tipping over. He had long since given up on moving the dresser any further and was now focusing all his strength on holding it _still._ “To go, _where,_ Narcissa? You’d be dead in a gutter the minute night fell.”

“I’m more resourceful than you know,” griped Narcissa. “And besides, I’ll have time to plan if I’m here and not at home with Mum and Dad and Mr. Tall Dark and Rapist breathing down my neck all the time.”

“Well I’m not assisting your insane notions at all,” said Sirius sternly. “I’ll not have my head mounted on Uncle Cynus’s wall, thank you very much. You can just get yourself killed without an accomplice.”

“Sirius! You’re supposed to be my favorite cousin!”

“I’m your only cousin, and besides, it’s no use fighting your fate like this. Just marry the guy and pretend to have a headache for the next forty years, all right? The rest of us have to deal with our expectations, what makes you so special?”

Narcissa stood up and walked to Sirius, glaring up at him. 

“Hey, get back down there and fucking find your wand, this thing’s about to tip over on me!”

“You bloody hypocrite,” Narcissa snarled. “Like you haven’t been fighting against this family since you were born! You should _hear_ your parents talk about what a train wreck you are, and how they wish they had a second son to usurp you, so they could disown you and live their lives in peace! You don’t do what _you’re_ told, so remind me why _I_ have to again?”

Sirius looked into her grey eyes. He shook a little from the exertion of holding up the dresser, and had the uncomfortable idea that Narcissa might kick his legs out from under him. 

He opted for a safe answer. 

“Because you’re a girl?” he said simply. 

It was the wrong response after all. Narcissa let out an angry cry and all-out punched him right in the kidney.  Sirius was at such a strenuous angle that it didn’t take much to knock him off balance.  With a yelp, Sirius went down with a thud and the dresser came down on top of him. 

He wasn’t crushed to death, though, as he had been expecting. Winded, he opened his eyes and found Narcissa kneeling next to him. She had sunk to the ground in time with the dresser and, while she was at too awkward an angle to catch it, had managed to slow its descent so while it rested on Sirius’s chest making it painful for him to breath, it hadn’t slammed into him. 

“Oh look at me, I’m merciful,” she said with a fake smile. She stood up and scraped her wand off the floor. It was covered in dust bunnies, which she promptly blew off in Sirius’s direction. 

Things couldn’t have been worse if Narcissa had planned them. Just as he was about to start yelling at his cousin to levitate the heavy furniture off of him, Sirius’s parents decided to come home, both dressed in their fine ‘society’ robes and carrying themselves with that same air of dignity and disdain Sirius had come to expect. Surprisingly, they were alone and not accompanied by Narcissa’s. 

The two of them entered the kitchen and the yelling was immediate. 

“By _Merlin_ what is going on in here?” thundered Sirius’s father, Orion. 

“Sirius!” screamed Walburga. “What happened?”

“He was moving the dresser and it fell on him,” explained Narcissa helpfully. “I managed to kind of catch it as it went down so it didn’t, like break any of his ribs or anything. It’s just resting on him.”

Walburga lifted the dresser a few inches off her son and Orion swiftly levitated it back to its position against the wall. Miraculously none of the dishes had broken, although some of the forks had jammed themselves into Sirius’s chest. He pulled them out sullenly as he stood up. 

“What the hell were you doing moving the dresser?”

“Helping _someone_ get her wand back!” Sirius yelled. His parents both glared at his raised voice. “Narcissa’s wand rolled under it and she couldn’t reach.”

“And is there a _reason_ you didn’t just summon the wand back?” demanded Walburga. 

Before Sirius could think of a cover, Narcissa spoke very loudly. 

“He lost his wand,” she said. “I’m assuming he had it yesterday since you’d have noticed it gone, so that means he probably lost it last night. He probably went sneaking around outside again. Pity he didn’t get his ass eaten by those monsters,” she added in an undertone that only Sirius could hear. 

“What?” demanded Orion in that calm and deliberate tone that Sirius remembered as never boding well. 

There were rarely instances where Sirius’s parents took to punishing him in any effective manner. For the most part, they took their frustrations with Sirius out on Regulus, completely convinced that Sirius cared for the boy in a way that he just did  _not._ To them it seemed that any harm befalling Regulus should be unbearable for Sirius to watch, although they had apparently forgotten to tell him just  _why_ that should be. 

This was different, though. This was not something his parents were going to smack Regulus for. Narcissa had landed Sirius in some deep trouble this time. Judging by the looks on their faces, Walburga and Orion Black had most likely forgotten Regulus even existed. Surely it was just Sirius swirling about in their vision right now, surrounded by a sea of black and red stars. 

“Nacissa,” said Orion in that same calm manner. “Please run along upstairs, dear. Have one of the servants make up a room for you. It is your parents desire that you stay the night here as they will not be home until late.”

“Are…are Bella and Andy home?” asked Narcissa curiously. 

“No, they’re still at the Lestranges,” explained Walburga as she dragged Sirius to his feet. “And they’ll be there all week. Your parents don’t want you home alone. They’ll be by to pick you sometime in the late morning.”

“Fine by me,” Narcissa shrugged. “I’ll see you later, Sirius,” she smirked at him. The look on her face read _I hope you know you deserve all you’re about to get in my opinion._

Sirius was strongly regretting how he had spoken to Narcissa, yet at the same time, he was angry enough that should he open his mouth all he’d likely do would be yell at her. So he remained silent as she trotted upstairs. 

Sirius unconsciously took a slight step back from his parents, feeling trapped by their dominating presence as they stared down at him, seething. Orion grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back again. 

“Out on the streets at night?” he demanded. “Again?”

Sirius swallowed. Not getting a new wand right away was rapidly becoming one of the least of his problems. 

“No, I wasn’t…” he started to lie but trailed off when he realized he had no decent cover story. Besides, even if he managed to convince his parents that he hadn’t lost his wand outside, that would mean it was _inside_ and they should be able to find it with a simple spell. When said spell didn’t work, they would find out he had lied. 

“Is now really the time to add deception to your list of offenses, Sirius?” demanded Walburga. Sirius shook his head meekly. “I thought not,” his mother growled. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered weakly. He’d rarely been in this situation before. All his cockiness vanished now that he knew his parents were about to lay into _him_ and not Regulus. 

“Do you understand nothing?” roared Orion. Sirius flinched. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Narcissa was likely sitting at the top of the staircase, listening and smirking in that insufferable, self-justified way. 

“I…”

“We are at _war_ Sirius. Maybe that seems like a game to you, but it’s not! There are precious few of us left and we need you to keep our bloodline strong, to ensure we survive into the next generation. If our line falters, all of the magical world will be weakened beyond the point of recovery!”

Sirius wanted to tell his father that he was overreacting, that he was overstating the importance of the Black family. He didn’t get the chance, though, because Orion kept shouting, shaking Sirius a little for emphasis.

“I’m sorry you feel like our rules are below you, but it is not your decision to make. You _will_ grow into your station, you _will not_ go outside to get yourself fucking killed! We have worked too hard and spent too much on you for you to throw that all away now with some nighttime escapade!”

“Dad, let go, you’re hurting me,” Sirius whined. He tried to shake free of Orion’s grip. “Please—”

He didn’t get the next word out. Orion struck him hard upside the head. Still weak from his ordeal with the dresser, Sirius immediately fell limp in his father’s grasp.

The next blow made something in his torso crack a little and a sharp, hot pain sneaked up his spine. Sirius let out a strangled scream. 

Oh, god, was this the kind of thing he had always subjected Regulus to? This was not only agonizing, but terrifying. Sirius felt trapped, claustrophobic, with Orion’s fingers digging into his arm and holding him in place. He had this blind fear that he was about to be killed. Surely his father would never do that, but perhaps he would lose all control over himself? Sirius was uncertain if Orion would stop before any permanent damage was done, or keep going…Was this how Regulus always felt? 

For a brief instant between the pain and the fear, Sirius wondered if Regulus would get a beating of his own so the two of them would ‘match’…but no, these were the kinds of bruises and breaks that could be healed easily, so probably not. After all, his parents usually healed Regulus after punishing him, rather than laying a hand on Sirius. 

“ _Stop!”_

“Regulus?” Sirius heard his mother’s voice cut through the room and for a moment, he thought she might have somehow heard his thoughts…or that perhaps he had been speaking out loud. 

Orion ceased his beating and both he and Sirius turned to see where Walburga was facing. 

In the doorway off the downstairs hallway, Regulus was standing with his arms folded and his eyes downcast. 

“What do you think you’re doing out of your room?” hissed Orion. It seemed as though any more disobedience from either Sirius or Regulus might send him over his breaking point. 

“I…uh, I heard you, master,” said Regulus plainly. He looked up at them timidly. “And I needed to stop you because you’ve made a mistake.”

Exactly how much of the conversation had Regulus heard? Sirius wondered. 

“It’s not Sirius’s fault he lost his wand—”

Evidently all of it.

“—he didn’t even go out. It was I that did.”

Sirius stared at Regulus in disbelief. Sirius’s father released him and he staggered back. Walburga caught ahold of him and, taking Regulus’s words at face value immediately, she set Sirius down in one of the kitchen chairs and started taking off his shirt. His chest was covered with bruises that matched his face, and one of his ribs was probably cracked judging by the way he held himself. 

Orion had both anger and regret showing on his face. 

“You?” he asked in a very dangerous voice. 

Regulus flashed his eyes to where Sirius sat. Sirius guessed he looked pretty pathetic, sitting shirtless and bleeding at the kitchen table while his mother went about trying to heal the worst of it. Regulus took a deep breath and looked Orion squarely in the eyes. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I wanted to go out because I hate being locked up in this house. I…I wanted to be able to protect myself though, in case I got into trouble. A—and it was easier to steal Sirius’s wand form his room than to try and track down mine.”

Sirius’s parents only allowed Regulus to have access to his wand—a replica of Sirius’s cosmetically but with a different magical core—when he was needed to masquerade as Sirius at whatever event they deemed too dangerous for their real son to go to. Usually political meetings, or places where Sirius would be openly exposed. 

“So you not only left your room and stole Sirius’s wand, but you then took it outside and you lost it?” hissed Walburga from where she sat, gently rubbing Sirius’s now-healed but still throbbing ribcage. 

“Yes,” said Regulus. His voice wavered slightly. 

“Get over here,” said Orion coarsely. 

Regulus hesitated for only a second, seeming to weight his options. In the end he stepped forward slowly and hung his head. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, readying himself. 

Sirius made a strangled sound that was supposed to be Regulus’s name, but he couldn’t seem to form actual words. 

“Shh,” his mother cooed, running a hand through his hair. “Mummy’s sorry she yelled at you and accused you of lying, Sirius. We should have listened to you. Daddy’s sorry, too…”

Sirius ignored her baby voice, he was too busy nursing a new feeling that was rising up in his abdomen as he watched Orion lay into Regulus. It was similar to pity, but wasn’t. He had pitied Regulus all his life for various reasons, but that had been different. This was like pitied combined with…perhaps some kind of  _caring._ Was this perhaps sympathy? Or empathy? No, those didn’t seem quite right, either, although they were closer.

Regulus was on the floor within minutes, Orion towering over him and seething with rage. 

“—and this is how you thank us?” He had been shouting at Regulus the entire time. “Do we not feed you? Clothe you? Take care of you? And yet you behave like this! You have a place in life and you will do well to remember it, Regulus!”

Sirius thought he saw his mother maybe wince ever so slightly when Orion brought his hand down again, although he may have imagined it. By the time he looked closer at her, her face was again a stoic mask.

Sirius couldn’t bring himself to look at Regulus, who was at this point completely limp and barely conscious. Instead he stared, eyes unfocused, at the stairwell and waited for it all to be over. Only someone else’s eyes were meeting his. 

Narcissa was peering around the wall at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed she had been listening to Sirius’s punishment all along as he’d suspected, but had crept down to investigate when she’d heard Regulus.

She had the most horrified look on her face, and Sirius was not confused as to why. Regulus looked like he could have been dead, and Orion was still hitting and yelling. He seemed to have worked himself into a lather, he was so angry. 

Walburga had a tight grip on Sirius’s arms now that he was fixed up. It was as though she was afraid he would leap to Regulus’s defense. Why would she think that,  w hen Sirius had given her no indication he held anything but apathy in his heart for Regulus? Although  even Sirius wasn’t heartless  enough  to look at Regulus’s limp, broken form and not feel a surge of emotion. Sirius suspected grimly that even Orion would feel guilty about his action later.

In the back of his brain, Sirius almost wished a servant would step in and do something, but they were undoubtedly to frightened of being next should they intervene, and Grus, the one employee who was  _not_ a servant to the Blacks but actually a paid professional, had gone home immediately after Sirius and Regulus’s lesson. 

There was one person who was bold enough to step forward, though, and Sirius sent a desperate look to Narcissa. It was a look, however, pleading with her to  _go upstairs._ Orion was in a blind rage right now, and as angry as Sirius had been with Narcissa earlier, he did not want her on the floor next to Regulus. 

Narcissa seemed to be battling with herself. Sirius could see her hand fiddling with her wand and he silently prayed she would not attack his father. Eventually, she nodded at Sirius with a frightened look on her face and dashed back upstairs. Sirius was certain his mother had not seen her, for she was too focused on cooing at Sirius and trying to ignore the scene in front of her. 

Orion did not stop until, when he picked up Regulus by the arm, the blood on his hands caused the boy to slide from his grip and smack back onto the floor. Only then did he freeze, breathing heavily and staring down what he had done. 

“Regulus?” he asked, almost timidly. 

Regulus stirred and opened his eyes. With slight relief, Sirius noticed that most of the blood was spilling from and open wound on Regulus’s forearm, where he had probably torn his skin open on the rough, wood floor. The rest of him, although not cut, was black and blue, and Sirius wondered if a significant amount of internal damage had been done or not. 

A shiver of relief swept over Orion’s face when he realized Regulus was not dead after all. He leaned down and pulled him up. Regulus had trouble standing, and had to lean on Sirius’s father. 

Next to him, Sirius’s mother was breathing raggedly. 

“I am sending you to your room now, Regulus,” explained Orion slowly. He waited for Regulus to nod in understanding, as if he were checking for brain damage, before he continued. 

“You will get no supper until the amount of money we save on food equals the cost of Sirius’s new wand, and your new matching replica.”

Regulus showed no reaction to this news, but Sirius cringed. How long would that be? Months, most likely. 

“You will of course, still get breakfast and lunch…you’re of no use to us dead. Now I’m going to lock you in your room—”

As if Regulus was in any condition to try and leave!

“—and I’ll be back in later tonight to patch you up a bit, ok?”

Orion’s voice was still cold, but he had some back to some of his senses. It seemed strange, all things considered, but Sirius would almost have described the man’s behavior as  _tender_ as he gently led Regulus into the hall and down the stairs, murmuring to him the whole way.

Sirius’s mother put a hand on his shoulder but he pushed her away. He had never felt so disconnected from his parents before. Sure, they had never gotten along well, but he had never until tonight been truly frightened of either one of them. Nor had he ever been so angry with them. It wasn’t that he cared about Regulus…anyone would be upset after seeing someone treated that way! Even if they were just a servant. 

“I’m going to my room,” Sirius announced, standing up suddenly. 

“Sweetheart…have you had lunch yet?” his mother asked. 

“Yes,” he lied. 

“We’ll…we’ll call you down when it’s time for dinner then,” she said quietly. 

“I don’t want any, I feel sick,” Sirius hissed. He stormed up the stairs and didn’t look back. 

Narcissa was waiting for him in his room, sitting on his bloodred bedspread. She jumped when he opened the door.

“S-Sirius…” she said. 

Sirius honestly wasn’t surprised to see her there. He threw off his shoes and pants (he had left his shirt downstairs, presumably his mother would throw it in the laundry) and slid into a nightshirt. He pushed Narcissa down to the end of his bed and then threw himself under the covers. It wasn’t even one in the afternoon, but he felt tired and…sick with a bizarre kind of almost-guilt. 

“Sirius,” said Narcissa calmly. “Who is…Reglas?” 

“Regulus,” he corrected automatically. He had always had a fondness for Regulus’s name. It had been him that had chosen it after all. For the first ten years of his life, Regulus had had no name. Sirius had come across the name _Regulus_ in a book somewhere during one of his lessons and become instantly attached to it. Unfortunately his owl at the time had already been named, and so he had given the name to the only unnamed thing in the house—his decoy.

“Right,” Narcissa slid up next to him and put her head on his pillow. Normally Sirius didn’t like her being this close to him, but he was feeling particularly alone right now.

“Who was that kid Uncle Orion killed?” asked Narcissa softly. 

“He didn’t kill him!” Sirius cried. “He didn’t!” It was like he needed to say the words to cement them as truth. Regulus was not dead; he would make a full recovery; he would be up and about again in no time…hadn’t his father promised to heal him that night? Yes, Regulus would be fine. 

“He looked pretty dead to me,” Narcissa whispered, horrified. “Sirius…who was he? Did he really take your wand?”

“No,” Sirius said under his breath. “He was lying. He didn’t take it, and he didn’t go out, I did.”

“Is he a friend of yours? No…he looked so much like you, he must be a family member, but I’ve never seen him before!” Narcissa exclaimed. 

“He’s a wizard,” Sirius explained. “But he’s not family. I think Mother and Father have some cosmetic spells on him to make him look like me. Niccy, he’s sort of like…my body double.”

Sirius went all in and spilled everything to Narcissa. He knew there was no point now. She’d seen Regulus, and would just investigate herself if Sirius tried to lie to her. He didn’t like the idea of her talking up the idea of a missing family member with any of their relatives, and he liked even less the idea that she might interrogate his parents. 

“A decoy?” Narcissa raised a blonde eyebrow in disbelief. “What would you need a decoy for?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius admitted. He rolled over to look at the ceiling. “I guess it’s more for later, really, when I’m a proper _grown up_ and get more involved in the war and everything. He gets sent to dangerous meetings and stuff in my place. My parents have kept him here his whole life, sort of getting him ready. He mostly stays in his room downstairs.”

“But who is he?” Narcissa pressed. 

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I gave him his name,  _Regulus Arcturus Black,_ and I have no idea where Mother and Father got him from.”

Narcissa bit his lip. “You guys must be close,” she observed. “For him to throw himself in front of your father for you like that.” She looked down and Sirius could tell she was regretting getting Sirius’s father so worked up earlier; most likely she had not realized he could react so violently. 

“That’s just it, though,” Sirius said. “We’re not close. We never have been. I’ve sort of always been a bit of a prat to him, really.”

“Well he obviously loves you for some reason.”

“Right…” Sirius rolled back onto his side. “Narcissa?” he asked after a minute. 

“Yes?”

“Are you not creeped out by being in my bedroom?” 

Narcissa stared thoughtfully at the hanging bones and drying pelts. “Nah,” she said after a minute’s consideration. “Reminds me of my room just a little.”

Sirius snorted in amusement. He didn’t think too much about what she might mean. 

“You’re going to go see him later, aren’t you?” Narcissa queried after a lengthy pause. 

Sirius sat up. “Why would I do that? I told you, we’re  _not_ friends.”

Narcissa looked at him quizzically. “I never said you were friends. That wasn’t a  _friendship_ display downstairs, that was something a little deeper!”

Sirius stared at her blankly. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Narcissa sighed. “Maybe I don’t either,” she admitted. “But you definitely need to talk to him. If only to ask him yourself why he did it! Come on, aren’t you curious?” she added, trying to spur Sirius into action by tickling his natural curiosity. “At the least you owe him a thank you.”

Sirius nodded. “Maybe you’re right…”

“Of course I am.”

There was a long silence between the two of them during which Sirius contemplated falling asleep and Narcissa played with the comforter. 

It was Narcissa who broke the silence. “Sirius,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Would you be willing to help me pack some things?”

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes.

“I want to be gone before my parents come to get me tomorrow,” she continued. 

Sirius sat back up again. “Narcissa,” he began. 

“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear it,” she warned. “I’ll leave with or without your help, just…”

Sirius could see the determined look in her eyes. 

“Niccy,” he started again. “Okay, listen, I’m not going to _stop_ you…but one night is not long enough to plan this. Now listen to me, your parents are not going to frog-march you down the aisle tomorrow. You’ve got some time, all right? Let me help you get ready. You need a plan, you need to know what to expect out there. I’ve got experience with what’s waiting outside in the shadows, let me teach you how to deal with it, at least.”

“Are you saying, that if I wait and make a better plan, you’ll teach me how to take out any of those horrific monsters I might come across?” Narcissa asked. 

“Yes,” said Sirius. 

Narcissa smiled devilishly, as though her true goal had been reached and Sirius couldn’t help but feel a little but manipulated. He shook it off, though. 

“For example,” he said, getting out of bed. “There a lot out there you don’t know about.”

“Well…” said Narcissa in a voice that suggested Sirius might not know _everything_ about her life. 

“Let me show you something I found while I was out with James last night. It’s one of the weapons that belongs to those alien creatures.”

“The ones who sent the monsters?” asked Narcissa, intrigued. 

“Yes,” said Sirius slowly. “Where did you hear about them?”

“I have _ears_ , Sirius,” Narcissa explained. 

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Whatever, look, I’ve hidden it under my mattress, so stand up, girlie.” 

Narcissa leapt to her feet and helped Sirius lift his mattress and push it off completely. 

To his horror, Sirius saw the gun was not where he had left it. In a panic, he dismantled the entire bed looking for it. 

“It’s…gone?” asked Narcissa.

“Yes…” gasped Sirius in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

“Does anyone know you have it?” asked Narcissa.

“James does…but he’s out of town.”

“Anyone else?”

“No,” Sirius insisted, but then he thought of whoever had moved the gun last night. He had been hoping all day that maybe that had been his imagination after all, but this sealed the deal. “No one could have known I put it there,” he muttered, concerned.

“Unless they looked for it,” offered Narcissa. “But who would go rummaging through your room? You don’t think one of the servants took it, did you?”

“No, what would they want with it? What would _anyone_ want with it? Who would even know what it was?!”

“Okay, calm down, Sirius,” Narcissa put a hand on his arm. “Let’s just get the bed put back together, okay? Then I’ll go get my own bedroom set up and you can go talk to Regulus.”

Sirius gave her a look.

“It’ll make you feel better, and you’ll be able to think clearer, trust me. Honestly, Sirius, how can you _not_ want to talk to him after that disaster downstairs?”

Sirius slid the mattress back on the bed. He leaned down to pick up his sheets. 

_Because I’m_ _terrified of what I might learn about him...and_ _about myself._

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story forever ago and am just now getting back into the swing of writing it. But it needs some serious editing. I thought since I'd never posted it over here (only on FF.net) that moving it to Ao3 chapter by chapter would be a good way to get everything cleaned up a bit and then maybe finally finish this monstrosity.
> 
> Let me know if you like it! I'm oddly attached to this one \\(^-^)/


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